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by TrueIllusion



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Flufftober, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Meet the Family, One Shot, Post-Canon, Romantic Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/pseuds/TrueIllusion
Summary: Rubbing his palms over the legs of his jeans, Patrick took a deep breath and let it out slowly, in hopes that the simple action might help calm the swirl of emotions that had been churning in his brain since he’d awakened a little before six. This would be David’s first trip to Patrick’s hometown, and the first time Patrick had been back himself since he’d run away to Schitt’s Creek what felt like a lifetime ago.***David and Patrick travel to Patrick's hometown for a wedding.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 38
Kudos: 277





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**Author's Note:**

> **Flufftober 2020 Prompt:** On the road
> 
> Thank you to blackandwhiteandrose for helping me bounce ideas around, encouraging me, and reading along, and to PrettyTheWorld for beta reading for me and, as always, pushing me to make the story the best it can possibly be.

“David, c’mon.” Patrick gently shook his husband’s shoulder for what must have been the dozenth time that morning. “You can sleep in the car.”

“S’too early,” David mumbled, burying his face in the pillows as he pulled the covers up over his head.

“I know, but the rehearsal’s at 6, and I don’t really want to have to rush to get there.”

David let out a frustrated whine as Patrick continued to tug on his arm until he was hanging halfway off of the mattress, with a good portion of the duvet already crumpled on the floor.

“I promise I’ll stop at that coffee shop you like in Elmdale and get you a pumpkin spice latte,” Patrick said, in hopes that bargaining might have a motivating effect on his husband.

“And some apple cider donuts?” David’s response was muffled by the pillow, although he did turn his head just enough for Patrick to see that one of his eyes was open, eyebrow quirking upward.

“ _Especially_ apple cider donuts.” At this point, Patrick would promise David almost anything, if it meant getting him out of bed and into the car. Patrick would have preferred to already be on the road, but he knew his husband well enough to not hold out too much hope that they’d be able to leave before nine. Ten, if he was lucky. And, true to form, David was still in bed at 9:05.

“Promise?” David finally turned to face Patrick, his eyes still bleary.

“I promise. Just please get out of bed, so we can leave.”

With a groan, David pushed himself up to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes, his mouth stretching into a yawn. His dark hair was mussed, with errant curls sticking out in all directions, and Patrick knew he could count on it taking at least another hour to leave the house, because there was no way David would want to be seen like that. But that was why he’d started early.

Patrick leaned down and pressed a kiss to his husband’s forehead before grabbing his hand and tugging him to his feet. “C’mon,” he murmured, kissing David again -- on the lips this time -- before gently guiding him in the direction of the bathroom. David’s eyes were still half-closed and his steps were barely even a shuffle, but he was out of bed, so that was a victory. Patrick pressed a third kiss to David’s lips before closing the bathroom door and leaving him to his shower and nine-step skincare regimen.

Rubbing his palms over the legs of his jeans, Patrick took a deep breath and let it out slowly, in hopes that the simple action might help calm the swirl of emotions that had been churning in his brain since he’d awakened a little before six. This would be David’s first trip to Patrick’s hometown, and the first time Patrick had been back himself since he’d run away to Schitt’s Creek what felt like a lifetime ago.

In some ways, he supposed it _had_ been a lifetime, because he felt like a completely different person now than he had been the day he’d crammed all of his earthly belongings into his Toyota Corolla and set out for destinations unknown. The day he’d left home, he remembered feeling like he was suffocating; like he’d die if he didn’t get out. So he left. He left the only woman he’d ever been with and the only place he’d ever called home, with no intention of looking back. He’d had absolutely no idea where he was going, but somehow he’d found himself driving past the Schitt’s Creek town sign at precisely the moment when his exhaustion and the fact that he still had no idea what the fuck he was doing had started to make him slap-happy. So he’d pulled over, laughed until he cried, then wiped his tears and checked into a rundown roadside motel… and the rest was history.

It felt like kismet. “The fated flap of a butterfly wing,” as Moira had so eloquently put it on their wedding day. The universe had brought them both Schitt’s Creek through a set of extraordinary and unpleasant circumstances, but it had also led them to each other, and now they were married -- just starting out their lives together as husbands. And he was still the happiest he’d been in his entire life. But even that couldn’t settle the odd mix of anxiety, dread, and excitement he felt at the fact that he’d be seeing his entire extended family for the first time in years -- this time with David by his side, instead of Rachel.

He was excited because he couldn’t wait for everyone to meet David, but at the same time, he couldn’t shake his own nervousness over the way he’d left -- without saying so much as a word to any of the cousins who had practically been his brothers and sisters growing up, and barely even saying anything to his parents other than “I need to get away for a while.” He had, indeed, gotten away… and now, everything was different. He’d finally figured out why things had never worked with Rachel, no matter how hard they tried, and he’d found the love of his life, all at once. He wasn’t the same person he had been three years before, and that made him wonder if the rest of his family would accept him -- and David -- as easily as his parents had.

All of the reasons he’d delayed going home continued to bounce around in Patrick’s head as he walked downstairs to the kitchen to prepare his tea and brew some coffee for David, to help him make it to Elmdale and his promised pumpkin spice latte. Even though Patrick knew his parents were firmly on his side and would defend him and David fiercely to anyone who tried to say an unkind word, Patrick didn’t want to expose David to that, and he definitely didn’t want that to be David’s first impression of the Brewer family beyond Marcy and Clint. Much like with his parents, even the knowledge of what kind of people his family were made no difference -- he still couldn’t get rid of the pit in his stomach or the anxiety that kept poking at him, making up stories that he hoped and prayed wouldn’t come true.

He’d just finished packing the cooler when David came downstairs, wearing his fuzziest black-and-white-striped sweater, the sleeves pulled down just slightly over his hands. Patrick recognized the bundle of velvety grey material nestled in David’s arms as his weighted blanket. Maybe Patrick wasn’t the only one who was anxious about what was about to happen.

“It helps me sleep,” David said, shrugging as he looked down at the blanket then back up again, though still not quite meeting Patrick’s eyes, as if he wasn’t sure he had a right to feel uneasy about any of this. “Sometimes in a new place, it’s… it’s hard for me to fall asleep.”

“I know.” Patrick smiled, lifting up onto his toes to kiss David’s cheek, relishing the feel of his husband’s ever-present stubble against his lips. “They’re gonna love you, you know.” Patrick knew his words were a direct contradiction to the angst in his mind, but the last thing he wanted was for David to worry. David wasn’t the one who’d run away from home and made a concerted effort to stay out of contact for the better part of three years.

“They love you too.” David’s words were soft, and the deep crease between his brows made it clear to Patrick that David knew he was nervous.

“Yeah,” Patrick sighed. “It’s just… It’s hard.”

“I know,” David echoed, a sad smile coming over his lips as he set the folded blanket aside on the table, wrapping Patrick up in his arms instead. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Patrick’s head as he rubbed his back, tightening the embrace before letting him go. “Whatever happens, I’ll be there.”

Patrick had heard those words before -- or a variation of them -- from David, and he appreciated his husband’s support just as much now as he had back then, as he’d prepared to come out to his parents at his surprise birthday party. Honestly, this felt a bit like coming out again -- showing up to a family function with the man he’d married, hoping for the best.

Patrick cleared his throat and blinked away the tears that had formed in his eyes at the memory of David’s words on that night that now felt so long ago. “So, uh… We should go,” he said, trying to keep his voice from wavering -- and mostly succeeding. “I already packed the car, so… I guess we’re ready.”

“Don’t forget about my latte.” David’s eyebrow arched upward as his lips pulled into a bow at the corner of his mouth -- the knowing, teasing smirk that Patrick wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of seeing. Sometimes he still had to pinch himself to remember that he really did have the rest of his life to take in all of the things he loved about David.

“Oh, I won’t.” Patrick smirked, pressing his lips to David’s in a brief kiss before picking up the cooler. “Trust me, there’s nothing I’d like to avoid more than listening to you whine for the next six hours about how you haven’t had enough caffeine today.”

“I don’t _whine_ ,” David objected -- his tone belying his words -- as he gathered up his blanket and slung his toiletry bag over his shoulder, then followed Patrick out the door.

***

David slept for most of the first few hours of the trip, waking only long enough to procure and consume his latte and two apple cider donuts before somehow, inexplicably, falling asleep almost immediately after finishing the last of the drink. But Patrick didn’t mind. He’d always enjoyed a quiet ride in the car, even if this one was giving him a hell of a lot of time to think. All he had to do to calm his racing thoughts, however, was glance at his husband in the passenger seat, face relaxed and jaw slack as he snored softly, nestled in his weighted blanket.

After a brief stop for lunch at a roadside diner whose sign promised pancakes and pie, David was finally awake for good, this time taking control over the radio. Patrick’s and David’s musical tastes would never truly agree, but Patrick was willing to compromise because he knew that David enjoyed singing along to his favorite songs, and seeing David happy made Patrick happy.

The miles passed by much more quickly than they had the last time Patrick had traversed the same stretch of road, and soon they were pulling into the driveway of the gray and white one-and-a-half story craftsman where Patrick had grown up. The house still looked the same, although a fresh coat of paint had brightened the exterior a bit, and it looked like his dad had replaced the porch swing at some point. There were a lot of memories in that house and on that porch. The front steps where he’d kissed Rachel for the first time in grade ten. The living room window that he’d broken with a baseball-gone-awry in grade six. The swingset in the backyard where he’d knocked out two of his baby teeth in grade one. Among many, many others. Some fond, and some that, looking back, Patrick wished he could have done things differently -- that he could have seen the world back then through the same perspective he had now. But he supposed that was the benefit of hindsight, and a part of growing up. It had just taken him a bit longer than most people to figure out who he was.

“Hey.” David’s soft voice brought Patrick back out of his thoughts. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Patrick tried to give David a reassuring smile, though it felt more like a grimace, and the sudden softness in David’s eyes confirmed that.

“It’s just your parents, honey.”

“I know. I’m okay, I promise.”

David gave a small nod and turned to look out the window. “So this is the setting for Patrick Brewer’s idyllic childhood, huh?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“It’s cute.” A grin tugged at one corner of David’s lips as he gazed at the front of the house. “Just the way I imagined it. Like one of those perfect little houses in perfect little neighborhoods you read about in romance novels.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Patrick chuckled, taking a deep breath and fighting the urge to tell David just how not-perfect things had been the last time he was here. That wasn’t important anymore. He’d moved on. He’d figured things out. He was happy now. He had a _husband_. They owned a business and a house. He finally had his life together, and he wasn’t faking it anymore.

He was just about to suggest that they get out of the car when the screen door burst open and his mother walked out onto the porch and down the steps, waving madly.

“Clint! They’re here!” Marcy called over her shoulder, as she walked down the sidewalk toward their car. Patrick barely had the door open and one foot out of the car before she was sweeping him into her arms and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

She did the same to David, once he’d finally untangled his limbs from the blanket and climbed out of the car. By then, Clint had joined them, greeting both Patrick and David with a hug and a firm pat on the back.

“We’re so glad you could make it,” Marcy said, her bright smile spreading all the way up to her eyes just as it always had. She was rocking gently back and forth on the balls of her feet, her excitement palpable. “I know Chris is thrilled too, and your Aunt Andie can’t wait to see you.”

A slight flush came over Patrick’s cheeks at the mention of his aunt and cousin -- the cousin who was born only a month after he was, that he’d grown up alongside. The family had often joked that they were practically twins, with the same coppery highlights in their brown hair, the same whiskey-colored eyes, and fair skin with too many summer sunburns to count. Not to mention the fact that they’d been inseparable until they went off to university. They’d drifted apart a bit then, keeping in touch mostly through the internet and text message, but they’d maintained the relationship -- at least, until Patrick broke up with Rachel for the last time.

Chris had always rooted for Patrick and Rachel, even when he’d called Patrick an idiot for breaking up with her for the thousandth time. He’d always been one of Patrick’s first calls when Patrick felt lost and confused after yet another mutual decision to “take a break for a while.” But this time, there’d been something deeper at play -- the realization that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t really interested in women at all. Maybe he was interested in men. And he hadn’t been ready to discuss that possibility with anyone -- not even Chris.

So he hadn’t called, and he’d ignored the dozens of texts Chris sent him -- even the ones that just asked Patrick to let him know he was okay. He’d let all of Chris’ calls go to voicemail, and he hadn’t returned any of them. At least, not until the night when he’d kissed David Rose for the first time and he’d gone back to Ray’s feeling like he was about to crawl out of his skin from the sheer excitement of it all -- the earth-shattering realization that kissing David felt different than anything he’d ever felt before in his life, and he needed to share it with someone. Operating on muscle memory, he’d scrolled through his contacts until his thumb landed on Chris’ number, and before he could change his mind, he initiated the call.

If Chris was surprised to hear from him, he’d hidden it well, and soon Patrick was spilling his guts, babbling almost incoherently about the unicorn of a man he’d gone into business with on a whim, that he’d just kissed. Patrick hadn’t even thought about whether or not Chris might judge him -- he’d just needed to tell _someone_ , anyone, what had just happened. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered. Chris had merely laughed -- that familiar, breathy laugh Patrick had heard nearly every day of his formative years -- and said, “You know, sometimes I wondered.”

And that was that. Patrick had let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and in the blink of an eye, he had his best friend back. Of course, they still hadn’t seen each other in person for far too long, but the lack of visits was now owed to the distance between Schitt’s Creek and Iroquois Falls, the town where Patrick and Chris had grown up -- where Patrick had left, and Chris had stayed. Now, Chris was getting married -- a little more than a month after Patrick and David’s own wedding -- and he’d asked Patrick to be his best man.

Patrick had asked Chris no less than a half-dozen times if he was sure, because he didn’t feel worthy -- not after being out of touch for so long, shirking his role of makeshift ‘brother’ because he’d been too afraid to reveal a key part of his own identity. But Chris had insisted that none of that mattered; the rockier parts of their past were water under the bridge, and there was no one else he’d rather have by his side on his wedding day than Patrick.

It made Patrick feel a bit like perhaps he should have asked Chris to be his own best man, but he hadn’t invited any family to the wedding other than his parents. He’d told himself that he didn’t want to overwhelm David or make him feel bad for not having any extended family to invite, but the truth was that he’d been afraid of what some of his more conservative relatives would think -- especially the ones who had never really left his hometown. Chris wasn’t upset, though; in fact, he hadn’t batted an eyelash. Maybe, on some level, he’d understood.

“I’ve got the guest room ready for you.” Marcy’s excited voice brought Patrick back out of his thoughts. “Andie said the wedding venue won’t be ready until 5:30, so I figured we’d head out around five… give ourselves plenty of time.”

“So that’s where you got that from,” David said, a wry grin playing at his lips.

“What?”

“Arriving painfully early to everything.”

“Since when is being punctual a negative trait?” Patrick laughed as he elbowed David gently in the ribs. “Just because you can’t manage to get anywhere on time--”

“I’ll have you know that by Rose family standards, I am usually _early_.”

“The keyword there is ‘by Rose family standards.’”

David’s eyebrows lowered into a scowl that Patrick found more adorable than intimidating, while Clint chuckled behind him.

“Well, should we go inside?” Marcy cut in, hands clasped in front of her chest. “I thought you boys might be hungry after all that driving, so I made cookies.”

The word ‘cookies’ was all it took to get David following Marcy into the kitchen, leaving Patrick and Clint to deal with the luggage. Fifteen minutes later, they had it all in the house and upstairs in Patrick’s childhood bedroom, which had been converted into a guest room back when he’d moved into his first apartment with Rachel. Even with the new furniture and fresh paint on the walls in the trendy shade David always referred to as ‘greige,’ for Patrick, the room still felt familiar -- haunted by the ghosts of his past, for better or for worse. The only thing left from the eighteen years he’d spent calling this room his own was his collection of sports trophies, which took up most of the bookshelf on the far wall, but it was still hard not to see his past life in every corner -- the life which now felt anything but authentic.

Clint’s warm hand found Patrick’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Your mom’s thrilled to have you boys here,” he said.

“I couldn’t tell.” Patrick laughed as he opened an empty dresser drawer, placing David’s carefully folded stack of white undershirts inside.

“It’s been too long.”

Patrick met his father’s eyes, a small part of him expecting to see disappointment there, but instead, he only saw the same love and gentle kindness that he remembered from his childhood. “I know,” he said softly, biting his lip. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. You needed some time to figure things out. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah.” Patrick’s voice grew softer still as he closed the suitcase and set it aside in the bottom of the closet. “Being here though, for this…” Patrick trailed off, turning his attention to David’s garment bag, suddenly grateful for his husband’s inability to ‘pack light,’ since it was currently keeping his hands busy while he tried to figure out what to say next.

“We’ve missed you, son,” Clint said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Everybody has.”

“I know, but…” Patrick paused and took a breath, hanging two of David’s sweaters in the closet before finally turning to face his father. “I feel like I’m a different person now.”

“Who doesn’t, after three years? Especially in your thirties.” Clint picked up David’s blanket, folding it carefully before placing it back on the bed.

Patrick sighed as he hung the garment bags containing David’s perfectly tailored black suit along with his own rented tuxedo.

“It’s gonna be fine, Paddy,” Clint said, moving to wrap an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and giving them an affectionate squeeze. “You’re happy; that’s all anybody cares about.”

Patrick gave his father a small smile, hoping it didn’t look as uneasy as it felt. “Yeah,” he said, trying to push back the doubt that continued to swirl in his mind, ratcheting up his anxiety as the wedding rehearsal drew closer.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you alone so you can change.” Clint gave Patrick a light clap on the back before slipping his hands deep inside his pockets -- a nervous habit Patrick had inherited. “I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you. How proud your mom and I both are.”

Patrick nodded, his smile morphing into something more genuine. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, son.” Clint returned Patrick’s smile as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sighing, Patrick sifted through the small collection of shirts and sweaters he’d just hung in the nearly-empty closet until he came to the sage green cashmere sweater that David had chosen for him, once he’d learned what colors Chris’ fiancee, Beth, had chosen.

“This’ll look amazing with your complexion,” David had said, as he’d clicked around on his laptop, placing the order before Patrick even had any opportunity to object. And Patrick had to admit, the sweater was a good choice -- it was soft and warm, perfect for the chilly mid-October weather in rural Ontario, and the color really did flatter his skin tone, eyes, and hair.

As he changed into his darkest pair of jeans and pulled the sweater over his head, Patrick turned to look at his reflection in the full-length mirror he’d hung on the back of the door at some point in high school when he’d tried to start caring about his appearance -- which he now recognized as an attempt to catch the attention of the distractingly handsome pitcher on his baseball team. Of course, he hadn’t seen it that way back then. But the same was true of so much of Patrick’s childhood and teenage years -- an overabundance of now oh-so-obvious signs that he should have seen and taken for what they were.

Patrick shook his head and ran a hand through his coif of messy curls -- the ones David had practically made him start growing out once he figured out just how curly Patrick’s hair was. There was no sense in beating himself up over the past; he knew that. But staying out of that headspace was easier said than done, especially now that he was mere minutes away from being surrounded by family that he hadn’t seen since he’d been engaged to marry Rachel.

Patrick slipped his shoes on and gave his hair a final once-over before heading back downstairs, where he found David and his mother sitting together on the sofa, a stack of photo albums between them. Draping his arms over David’s shoulders, Patrick planted a kiss on the top of David’s head, earning himself a light swat to the hand.

“Not the hair, please,” David said, his hand already reaching up to smooth over the place Patrick had kissed.

“It’s fine, David.” Patrick chuckled as he moved around to sit on the arm of the couch alongside his husband. “You use enough product in your hair that I’m pretty sure you could step into a hurricane and it wouldn’t move.”

“I do not.” David crossed his arms indignantly, his lower lip jutting out just slightly as Patrick leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“So, how many embarrassing stories about my childhood have I missed so far?”

“Oh, just the time when you wrote Rachel a note to get her out of gym class and signed it in cursive… in grade one.” Amusement sparked in David’s eyes as his lips turned up into a smirk. “Though I’m pretty sure Rachel’s mom probably wouldn’t have written her note on one-inch ruled paper, or signed it ‘Rachel’s mom.’”

Patrick groaned and rolled his eyes. “I’m never gonna live that one down, am I?”

“It was cute and sweet, honey,” Marcy said, her own eyes twinkling with the same amusement as David’s. “Even if you didn’t quite think out the logistics.”

“Also, I’m pretty sure you were the most adorable kid ever, so I’m surprised you didn’t get away with it anyway,” David said, reaching over to weave his fingers through Patrick’s.

“Well, _I’m_ pretty sure this means Alexis is going to owe me at least a story or two the next time we see her.”

“Not if she values her life.”

“Okay, boys,” Marcy interrupted, chuckling as she closed the album that was laying open on her lap and stood up. “I’d better go get changed. Andie asked me to help her with the decorations, so we’ll be heading out in a bit, if you want to ride with us.”

With that, Marcy set the photo album on the coffee table and went upstairs, while Patrick pushed the rest of the stack aside to make room for himself beside David.

“How’re you doing?” David asked softly, his eyes searching Patrick’s.

“Okay so far,” Patrick breathed, as David opened his arms and pulled him into a hug. “But we’re not there yet.”

“It’s gonna be fine, honey.” David ran a soothing hand up and down the length of Patrick’s bicep.

“I hope so.” Patrick buried his face in David’s chest, inhaling the familiar scent of David’s moisturizer and the light spritz of cologne he’d put on that morning, letting that familiarity be a source of comfort. He knew David was probably right, but there was still that niggling thought in the back of his mind making him wonder if he’d be making a mistake -- if he’d already made one by bringing David back to the conservative little community where he’d grown up.

“So how do you want me to be tonight?”

“Huh?” Patrick raised his head to look at David, his brow already furrowed in confusion.

“How do you… want me to be tonight?” David repeated, pausing to bite his lip as he gazed down at Patrick.

“What do you mean? I want you to be _you_. That’s all you need to be.”

David nodded, still looking unsure. “I just… I know I can be kind of a lot, sometimes… for some people.”

Patrick felt his cheeks flush. He couldn’t deny that same thought had already run through his head more than once, even though he would never in a million years ask David to pretend to be something he wasn’t for the sake of someone else’s comfort -- David had done enough of that in his previous life. Even so, the anxiety was there, and David had apparently read him like a book.

“I want them to meet the man I fell in love with,” Patrick said, taking a deep breath. “All of you. And if that’s too much, then that’s their problem.”

A shy smile spread across David’s lips as he whispered, “Okay.”

“Now, go get dressed, so I can show off my handsome husband. Upstairs, second door on the right.”

Patrick watched David disappear up the staircase, his gaze lingering on David’s perfect ass for as long as possible before he leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply once again as he tried to push aside the lingering sense of unease that he just couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how confident he tried to sound.

David’s words from earlier that morning echoed in his head -- _Whatever happens, I’ll be there_ \-- reminding Patrick that he wasn’t alone. They were in this together. He had people in his corner, and he had to remember that.

***

Less than an hour later, David and Patrick were back in Patrick’s Corolla, following the Brewers to the wedding venue after Patrick suggested they might want to leave at different times. Patrick was sure his mom likely assumed he and David would want to stay later, but a part of Patrick wanted that tiny bit of security in knowing he could easily get himself as well as David out of an uncomfortable situation.

The wedding venue was a rustic barn turned ‘event space’ several miles outside of town, not far from his Uncle Ron and Aunt Andie’s house. The way Patrick understood it, the rehearsal and the actual wedding ceremony would be held on an outdoor deck, and the reception would be held in the barn. Tonight’s rehearsal dinner was a backyard barbecue at Ron and Andie’s -- a casual event that would include his entire family rather than just the wedding party.

Patrick remembered spending so many summer days of his youth there, swimming in the lake, horsing around on the boat dock, and roasting marshmallows over the bonfires that were a near-weekly occurrence. Those times felt so far away now -- memories so distant they felt as if they’d happened to someone else, like so much of his life before he met David Rose.

When they pulled into the gravel lot just down the hill from the barn, Patrick saw Chris almost immediately, standing by the trunk of a car with his fiancee, along with Andie and Ron. He’d hoped he might have a moment or two to collect himself once they arrived, but no such luck -- as soon as Chris made eye contact with Patrick, he was already headed in their direction.

Patrick parked the car and opened the door, grateful for the gentle squeeze of his hand and reassuring half-smile David gave him just before they climbed out of the car. Within seconds, Chris’ arms were around Patrick, giving him one of the biggest bear hugs he’d ever had in his life. When they separated, the broad smile on Chris’ face could have illuminated the entire county.

“You look good, man,” Chris said, clapping Patrick on the shoulder one last time. “Looks like married life’s been treating you well.”

Patrick nodded and swallowed, trying to smile as he pushed down the sudden nervousness he felt as he realized the first of the weekend’s many moments of truth was upon him. “Thanks,” he choked out, making his best attempt at not sound like he was about to burst into tears from the sheer anxiety of it all. He felt David’s arm come around his waist and a strong hand on his hip grounding him, helping to dissolve the tiniest fraction of his unease.

“And you must be David!” Chris turned his megawatt smile in David’s direction, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Good things, I hope.” David’s own nervousness came out in his words, despite his easy smile.

“All good,” Chris confirmed. “I’m pretty sure you’ve turned my cousin into the happiest man on the planet, the way he talks about you.”

David’s cheeks flushed as he pulled his lower lip between his teeth and glanced down at Patrick, an unmistakable fondness in his eyes. “Well, he makes me pretty happy too.”

As the introductions continued and Patrick watched his husband interact with his aunt and uncle, along with Chris’ fiancee, Beth, the bright smiles shared all around helped melt away his anxiety as he basked in the sight of David smiling and laughing, graciously accepting compliments on the white jeans and gray-and-black designer sweater he’d chosen for the evening. Soon, two more sets of aunts and uncles and their corresponding cousins came pouring out of the barn, and both Patrick and David were swept up into a whirlwind family reunion of sorts, filled with hugs and handshakes and kisses on the cheek -- a warm welcome that made him wonder why he’d been so worried, at least until his great aunt Mitzi started walking down the hill.

Mitzi was easily the most conservative member of Patrick’s family -- and she wasn’t shy about speaking her mind. She was a big believer in ‘traditional marriage,’ and she hadn’t hesitated to make her opinion known when same-sex marriage had first become legal in Ontario, shortly before Patrick’s sixteenth birthday. At the time, Patrick had simply been a big believer in equal rights for everyone, and he’d been lightyears away from admitting to himself that the real reason was because, deep down, he knew that he was likely someone who could benefit from being able to marry the person he loved, without question. Even so, he and Mitzi had gotten into more than one political ‘discussion’ over Thanksgiving dinner once Patrick was old enough to start caring about such things, and they were not fond memories.

“What’s everyone doing out here when there’s plenty of work to be done?” Mitzi’s loud voice rang out over the din of excited conversations that were happening at the bottom of the hill. “Leaving me to do it all by myself, I see.” Her eyes scanned the group, ultimately settling on David, then Patrick, giving him exactly the disappointed, judgmental look he’d anticipated, before she turned her attention back to everyone else, shepherding them all back up to the barn.

“So, who was that... lovely... woman?” David asked under his breath, as he and Patrick started up the hill, lagging well behind the others.

“My great aunt Mitzi. Let’s just say she’s not someone you want to talk politics with.”

David hummed and nodded, his gaze trained down at his Rick Owens high tops. “Yeah, okay… One of those.”

“Yeah.”

David draped an arm over Patrick’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Her loss, then.”

“Yeah.” Patrick took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping that Mitzi’s reaction to seeing him with David wasn’t a harbinger of what was to come when more people arrived.

“Everyone else seems nice.” David smiled at Patrick, his eyes searching Patrick’s again for any sign of feelings that Patrick might not be putting into words. “They were all really happy to see you.”

Patrick made a noncommittal noise, still not quite able to fully dispel the sense of unease that had been twisting his stomach in knots for days now, especially after the look they’d both just gotten from Mitzi.

David stopped dead in his tracks, moving his hands to Patrick’s shoulders and turning Patrick to face him. Patrick tried to look away, but a gentle hand on his chin lifted his gaze to meet David’s. “Don’t worry about her,” David said, sounding far more confident than Patrick felt. “Like I said, it’s her loss.”

“I know, it’s just… There’s this voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me she might not be the only one. You get so used to Schitt’s Creek, you know… where nobody really gives a second thought to who kisses who. And then I come back here, and it’s…” He paused and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of David’s thumbs gently stroking the tops of his shoulders. David was quiet, waiting for him to continue. “It’s a little scary, I guess. The not knowing. Not knowing what people are thinking about you… what they’re saying behind your back. I’m trying to not care, but it’s...”

As Patrick’s voice trailed off, David pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. As long as you’re happy.”

“I guess I just want everyone to love you as much as I do,” Patrick said softly, his face still buried in David’s sweater.

“I’m okay with it if they don’t, honey. I learned to stop caring what people think of me a long time ago.”

That was one of David’s traits that Patrick desperately wished he could adopt. He’d always been a ‘people pleaser,’ caring far too deeply about what others thought of him, and often sacrificing his own happiness to do what was expected of him. That was how he’d ended up back with Rachel so many times. It was why he’d run away to Schitt’s Creek -- to escape the weight of everyone else’s expectations so he could finally figure out who he really was. But somehow, being back here brought all of those expectations -- and the old habits that went with them -- flooding back.

“You’re all I care about,” David said, releasing Patrick just enough to look him in the eye. “I love you. And no matter what happens tonight or tomorrow, that won’t change, okay?”

“I love you too,” Patrick whispered, wishing he could stay right there in David’s arms for the rest of the night. But he knew he couldn’t; they’d have to go in eventually.

“You’re not alone. I’m here. And I’ll be right there whenever you need me, okay?

Patrick nodded, swallowing hard as David gave his shoulders one final squeeze before taking his hand and leading the way up the hill to the barn, where Marcy and Andie were tying sage green ribbons around the handles of the rustic lanterns in the center of each table. Marcy looked up and smiled as Patrick and David stepped through the door, giving them a little wave before moving on to the next table. There were open boxes of decorations on nearly every surface, and everyone who had just been outside was now busy unloading them.

In the far corner of the barn, by what Patrick assumed to be the cake table, Mitzi was directing one of his uncles to hang a large banner that read, “Congratulations Chris and Beth!” It was impossible to miss the haughty look she gave them both, especially once her gaze settled on their joined hands. David wrapped his fingers more tightly around Patrick’s as he leaned down to whisper, “Her loss.”

Before Patrick had too much time to dwell on anything, Chris was waving them over from the open door at the other end of the barn -- the one that led to the deck, which was already lined with white folding chairs and illuminated by dozens of tiny white lights strung overhead. The sun was already sinking toward the horizon, making the lights stand out against the quickly darkening sky.

Chris held out a beer to Patrick before reaching down into a metal tub full of ice to retrieve one for David as well. David held up a hand and shook his head, uttering a quiet, “No thanks.”

“David’s more of a wine guy,” Patrick said, inwardly cringing at how stereotypical that sounded, even though it was true.

Chris, however, didn’t even blink, instead moving over to the makeshift bar just inside the barn doors, calling out, “Red or white?” over his shoulder.

“Red, please.” David and Patrick shared a conspiratorial glance as the corner of David’s mouth tilted up into a smirk. Ever since the night Stevie had asked Patrick if he was strictly a red wine drinker, resulting in a lot of confusion and a very high David and Stevie attempting to explain their wine metaphor for David’s sexuality, both Patrick and David had made a bit of a show of ordering red wine almost every time they went out to dinner, as a sort of inside joke. Tonight, apparently, was no different.

Less than a minute later, Chris was handing David a glass of merlot and the three of them were joining Chris’ other groomsmen in a small circle of chairs at the corner of the deck. Chris introduced Patrick as his ‘brother from another mother’ and David as Patrick’s husband, and no one so much as raised an eyebrow, which did a lot for helping Patrick feel like he could breathe again -- that perhaps Mitzi was alone in her disdain for their relationship and his father was right, that all anyone else cared about was that he was happy.

Patrick tried to stay fully present for the conversation, grateful for the small bit of distraction as well as the relief that getting a little bit of alcohol in his system provided, but every time he heard Mitzi’s voice anywhere in the vicinity of the barn door, he couldn’t help but try to overhear, in case whatever was being said was about him or David. David seemed to be able to read his mind, calming and grounding him with a well-timed squeeze of the hand or a subtle palm on Patrick’s thigh anytime Patrick felt his pulse quicken.

The rehearsal was more of the same, only without the benefit of David being right by Patrick’s side. Instead, Patrick was standing up front with Chris, two more cousins and a couple of Chris’ fraternity brothers, feeling a bit like a fish out of water, even among his own family. Any time someone looked his way, Patrick found himself searching their gaze for any hint of judgment or disapproval, while the sense that he was about to crawl out of his skin intensified with each passing minute.

He tried to pay enough attention to the actual rehearsal to feel that he’d be able to confidently perform his ‘best man’ duties without fucking it all up, but that was easier said than done -- even with David in the front row of chairs, giving him reassuring smiles and the occasional wink. Once the wedding party had run through the particulars of the ceremony a couple of times and everyone else had finished decorating the inside of the barn for the following night’s festivities, it was time to head to Ron and Andie’s house, where the rest of their extended family would already be waiting.

“Still doing okay?” David asked, reaching across the console of Patrick’s car to take his hand. His concern was etched all over his face, in the slight furrow of his expressive brows and the way his lips were pulled tight, turned downward just slightly.

Patrick nodded, trying to smile.

“You don’t have to pretend for me,” David said softly as he squeezed Patrick’s hand. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Letting out a breath, Patrick closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat as he tried to figure out how to put everything that was running through his head into words. “That I’m glad we’re here, even though there’s a part of me that’s really looking forward to going home. That this used to be home, but it’s not anymore.”

Home was Schitt’s Creek. Home was where he and David could be who they were, and hold hands over the table at the cafe, or kiss each other on the street corner, without caring who was there or who saw. Iroquois Falls used to be Patrick’s safe place -- where he’d go to spend a week or two at his parents’ house because he needed a break from whatever was bearing down on him at the time. But it had stopped being that on the day he’d left for Schitt’s Creek, even if he hadn’t necessarily thought about it that way at the time.

David’s fingers tightened around Patrick’s, his thumb tracing the skin over Patrick’s knuckles. “I get that,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Patrick knew that was how David felt about New York; they’d talked about that at length after David decided to stay in Schitt’s Creek. “Remember when you asked what would have happened if we had met in high school?” David paused, catching Patrick’s eyes with his own.

Patrick nodded, chuckling softly to himself at the memory of David recounting his very... unique... high school experience. “Yeah, you didn’t think I would’ve been into candy raver David.”

“Well, I still stand by that conviction.” A familiar smirk came over David’s lips as his eyes sparkled before softening again. “But I needed to be that David… and New York David... and got-ditched-by-a-clown David... so I could be finally-figuring-out-his-life David in Schitt’s Creek. This place, these people... They’re what made you who _you_ are, so you could be finally-figuring-out-his-life Patrick in Schitt’s Creek. We needed all those times and experiences, so we could be us, now. Here or at home.”

Patrick closed his eyes again, marveling at David’s miraculous ability to always know exactly what he needed to hear, then leaned over the console, pulling David into a kiss as he whispered, “You always make everything okay.”

***

Turning into Ron and Andie’s long, gravel driveway felt so familiar, almost instantly transporting Patrick back to another time -- a time when things had been simple and he hadn’t had to doubt whether or not certain members of his family approved of his relationship or the way he lived his life. Not that it mattered; David was right -- all that mattered was that he was happy. But it was still hard not to think about.

As he’d expected, there were a few more distant members of his extended family who asked about Rachel -- especially when they’d first arrived and David had gone to the bathroom to ‘freshen up.’ But overall, everyone was accepting and seemed genuinely happy to meet David, which helped alleviate more of Patrick’s fears.

Not wanting to be rude, Patrick tried a few times to introduce David to Mitzi, in hopes that maybe if she could meet him, she’d see him -- and their relationship -- differently. That she might start to see how happy Patrick was to have married the love of his life, and how it didn’t matter that David was a man and not a woman. That their partnership was just as fulfilling as that of the heterosexual couples in the room. But even time he tried, she’d manage to move away, sometimes giving him a cursory glance and sometimes not. Honestly, that frustrated Patrick even more than her judging them outwardly, because her actions were making it clear that she didn’t even want to engage with them or give David a chance.

Patrick had just made his fourth attempt at introducing them when he felt David’s fingers wrap around his arm and start to tug him outside, where he could already see the beginnings of the night’s bonfire. “Don’t worry about it, honey,” David said under his breath. “You’re gonna drive yourself crazy.”

“It’s a little late for that.” Patrick huffed out a laugh as David grabbed a beer from the cooler and pressed it into Patrick’s hand.

“C’mon… Why don’t we go outside for a few minutes? Take a break from this whole ‘perpetual ice-breaker’ situation.”

Patrick nodded, allowing David to usher him out the patio door and into the cool, fall evening. Lightning bugs danced in the distance, twinkling against the trees on the other side of the lake. Chris, Beth, and nearly everyone else in attendance who was under the age of 40 had begun to assemble around the bonfire, settling into the white adirondack chairs that were yet another fixture of Patrick’s youth.

David led Patrick over to a chair and sat down, then pulled Patrick into his lap. At first, Patrick started to object, not wanting to offend anyone with an overt display of affection, as stupid and unjust as that sounded. However, the smile on Chris’ face as David’s arm came around Patrick alleviated his anxiety, and the gentle pressure of David’s fingertips massaging the back of his neck helped to melt away the rest.

Patrick wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to just how easily David Rose seemed to fit in with almost anyone, and the Brewer cousins were no exception. They’d only been outside for a few minutes before David and Patrick’s cousin Melody were engaged in an animated conversation about the merits and drawbacks of the romcom genre.

“I mean, I love the escapism,” Melody said, pausing to take a swig from the beer bottle in her right hand, “but on the other hand, I think they kind of set up an unrealistic expectation for what a real relationship should look like, you know? Like, not everyone gets a happy ending. At least, not like _that_.”

“Some people do.” David’s voice was as soft as his eyes as he gazed at Patrick before leaning in to kiss him.

The kiss prompted a good-natured groan from Patrick’s cousin Jordan, who reached over to give David’s shoulder a playful shove. “C’mon, you two… save some for later.”

“Well,” Melody cut in, “a few _notable_ exceptions aside, I suppose.”

“I hope we’re counted in that,” Chris teased, gently kicking the side of Melody’s chair as she stuck her tongue out at him.

“He’s right,” Patrick cut in, reaching up to wrap his fingers around David’s. “Sometimes it all works out.”

David’s arm tightened around Patrick as the conversation shifted to the upcoming hockey season -- a topic that Patrick knew David couldn’t care less about. David stayed, though, continuing to play with the short hairs at the nape of Patrick’s neck and press the occasional soft kiss to his temple, cheek, or neck. After a couple of beers, Patrick was feeling even more relaxed -- enough to make fun of David’s paranoia over melted chocolate once the makings of s’mores had been brought out.

“You’re the one who wore white pants to a barbecue,” Patrick said, laughing.

“It’s a _wedding_ , Patrick,” David said indignantly. “I didn’t want to look _morose_. And I’ve been just fine until now, but _somebody_ can’t manage to hold their s’more over their plate like a proper gentleman.”

Melody giggled as Patrick stuck his pinky out and made a big show out of taking the most delicate, dainty bite possible out of his s’more and David rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” David sighed. “But you’re paying the dry cleaning bill.”

“Last I checked, we have a joint bank account and our sole income is from the business we co-own, so I’m pretty sure I already pay the dry cleaning bill.”

The easy banter around the fire continued well into the night, with Patrick knocking a few back with Chris and the rest of his cousins for old times’ sake, while David interjected his own points of view into the conversation when the subject matter interested him, just like he’d always been a part of the family.

Slowly, the ‘adults’ started to head home, leaving the ‘kids’ -- none of whom were under the age of twenty -- around the bonfire, drinking and swapping stories. At one point, Marcy and Clint stopped by to let David and Patrick know they were leaving, and Patrick had a feeling David probably wanted to do the same, especially after the ‘early’ morning wake-up call, but David insisted he was fine -- that he wanted Patrick to be able to stay as long as he liked.

Eventually, though, the group around the bonfire started to dwindle as well, and soon, David was leading a fairly tipsy Patrick across the uneven gravel toward the car before opening the passenger door and guiding him inside.

“Mmm… just like a true gentleman,” Patrick said, his voice coming out louder than he intended.

“Shh… I’m sure your aunt and uncle are probably asleep.”

Patrick snorted, still thoroughly enjoying the slight buzz he’d had for most of the night -- just enough to help take his senses off high alert so he could relax. “Trust me,” he said, managing to keep his voice lower this time. “Chris and I used to sneak out _all_ the time, and they never noticed.”

Once David had Patrick safely in the passenger seat with his seatbelt fastened, he handed Patrick one of the bottles of water they’d stashed in the cooler, ‘just in case,’ and instructed him to drink it -- using the same no-nonsense voice he often used with Moira. David rolled the windows down a few inches -- just enough to get some fresh air on the drive back to his parents’ house -- and by the time they arrived, Patrick had already sobered up quite a bit. Thankfully, the relaxed feeling remained, giving him a break from the near-constant state of anxiety that had taken up residence in his head over the past several days.

Patrick leaned into David’s touch as the two of them walked into the house and up the stairs, David’s arm around Patrick’s shoulders the whole way. Patrick’s parents had already gone to bed, so the house was quiet and dark, save for the couple of lamps Marcy had left on for them. They showered together, with David massaging the tension out of Patrick’s neck and shoulders under the warm spray before dropping to his knees and sucking Patrick off, the wet heat of David’s mouth and his languid-but-purposeful movements quickly tipping him over the edge. The combination of orgasm and the scent of David’s sandalwood and vanilla body wash relaxed Patrick even further, until David was practically dressing him as he sat on the closed toilet lid, his eyelids heavy.

Once David had completed his skincare routine, he gently guided Patrick across the hall and into bed before climbing in on the opposite side. David rolled over to face Patrick, one hand propping up his head and the fingers of the other tracing a gentle path up and down Patrick’s arm.

“Still doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick breathed, David’s light touch making his skin tingle. “Thanks for taking care of me tonight.”

“Anytime, honey.” David’s smile was as present in his voice as it was in the serene expression on his face. “You don’t have to do any of this alone.”

“I know.” Patrick felt a smile coming over his own lips as his eyes drifted closed. “I’m glad you’re here… Glad I waited.”

David pressed a soft kiss to Patrick’s lips before tugging their bodies closer, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s torso as he pulled the weighted blanket over both of them and turned out the light.

***

The next morning, Patrick awoke with the slightest hint of a headache, but it was nothing that some ibuprofen and a big glass of water couldn’t take care of. More importantly, he’d woken up in David’s arms, feeling warm and relaxed under David’s blanket, with David’s breath ghosting across his neck with each exhale. The sense of peace he’d felt as he’d fallen asleep was still very much present, and Patrick wasn’t sure that he’d ever felt safer or more secure in his life than he did in David’s arms.

David snuffled softly in his sleep without awakening as Patrick rolled onto his side, studying the peaceful expression on his husband’s face, grateful to be able to wake up next to this man every single day. On the surface, the two of them looked like polar opposites, but in truth, they complemented each other perfectly. Patrick was normally the grounding, rational presence who liked to plan, whereas David was more of a dreamer -- content to follow his inspiration wherever it led. But when it came to the moments Patrick simply couldn’t bring himself to plan for, it was David who always carried him through.

Truthfully, those were Patrick’s favorite times in their relationship, because the giving, nurturing, do-anything-for-you side of David Rose was one that not many people saw. That side of David was how he showed his loved ones how much he cared -- showing up for them, even when it was uncomfortable for him. Patrick knew David had been nervous about coming to Iroquois Falls -- his choice of clothing and the blanket they were both currently under were both evidence of that -- but when they’d actually arrived, none of that mattered, because David was there for Patrick, just like he always had been.

Slowly and carefully, Patrick leaned in, pressing his lips to David’s in a series of soft, gentle kisses, one after the other until David’s eyes fluttered open, revealing the dark brown orbs that always seemed to be able to look straight into Patrick’s soul. In Patrick’s opinion, it was in these moments -- his hair rumpled, eyelids heavy with sleep -- that David was at his most beautiful. Before he’d put on his armor. When he was just… David. Soft, open, and loving.

“Hi,” David whispered, the tiniest smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

“Hi,” Patrick echoed, kissing his husband one more time before settling his head on David’s pillow.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Best night since our wedding night, I think… thanks to you.”

David’s smile grew broader as a slight flush came over his cheeks. “Mmm… high praise, indeed.”

“I thought maybe I’d return the favor…” Patrick let his voice trail off as he kissed his way down David’s jaw and the side of his neck before lifting up his t-shirt to kiss a trail across David’s chest and torso, pausing to swirl his tongue around each of David’s nipples on his way to the waistband of David’s pajama bottoms. Slowly, he eased them down, taking David’s underwear with them, before taking David into his mouth, pleasuring him expertly with a combination of tongue and throat action until David was burying his face in the pillows in an effort to muffle the sounds of his orgasm.

As the final few aftershocks pulsed through David’s body, Patrick moved up to lie beside him, draping an arm over David’s chest.

“I love you, David Rose,” Patrick murmured, his face buried in David’s shoulder.

“Love you too, Patrick Brewer.”

***

Thankfully the relaxed tone of the morning carried through the afternoon and into the wedding ceremony. Chris and Beth radiated the same kind of love and contentment Patrick had felt so full of on his own wedding day, which was still fresh in his mind. David looked just as beautiful in his black suit as he had in the skirt suit he’d worn for their nuptials and seeing him sitting alongside Marcy and Clint gave Patrick all he needed to get through the ceremony without worrying about what anyone else thought about the fact that he was married to David instead of Rachel.

He also managed not to fuck up any of his ‘best man’ duties, which was impressive considering how little attention he’d paid at the rehearsal. But, all in all, he was grateful to be able to watch his cousin be just as excited to marry Beth as he had been to marry David. It made him a bit emotional, actually -- watching Chris and Beth say their vows while also being able to look out at David, who had the slightest hint of a shy smile tugging at his lips as he gazed fondly at Patrick.

After the newlyweds’ first kiss as husband and wife, the festivities moved from the deck to the inside of the barn, where drinks were already flowing. Unlike the night before, though, Patrick didn’t feel quite so compelled to drink as a way of alleviating his anxiety, because he’d already come to the conclusion that if there was only one person in his entire extended family who disapproved of his relationship, that actually wasn’t too bad.

Patrick wasn’t more than a few feet inside the barn when he spotted David, who was waiting for him with open arms. Melting into David’s embrace felt natural for Patrick -- like it was just the place where he _fit_. Like he was home.

“You were right,” Patrick said softly, as he pulled back to look David in the eyes.

“Mmmhmm, yes, I know.” David nodded, smirking before he asked, “About what?”

Patrick laughed, shaking his head. “About how I can’t worry about what other people think. How it doesn’t really matter, as long as we’re happy. And if someone else can’t be happy for us, that’s on them.”

David’s lopsided smirk turned into a smile as he pulled Patrick closer again, kissing the top of his head. “I love you, honey.”

“Love you too,” Patrick murmured, giving his husband one last squeeze before letting go with a sigh. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Yes you could have.” David ran his hands up and down Patrick’s biceps. “You had it in you all along.”

Patrick let out a sigh, still not sure that was entirely true, as David’s hands moved down to take his hands, tugging him toward a table where his parents were already sitting. Patrick was glad that Chris and Beth had decided not to go with the concept of sitting the entire wedding party at the head table or even assigning seats, but rather just letting everyone choose who they’d like to sit with for dinner and drinks, because he really wasn’t interested in being separated from his husband for dinner.

The food definitely wasn’t wood-fired pizza -- which David was apparently still salty about missing out on at their own reception -- but it was pretty impressive, even by David Rose standards. The cake, however, turned out to be the one true way to David’s heart, and the noises he made while eating it nearly made Patrick blush, given that they were sharing a table with his parents -- not to mention the presence of his aunt and uncle.

David had nearly made it through his slice of cake -- thankfully without Patrick dying of embarrassment -- when Patrick felt someone tap him on the shoulder and turned to find Chris and Beth’s wedding coordinator, Molly, standing behind him.

“So, our newlyweds are almost ready for their first dance,” she said, the rhinestones on the heart-shaped brooch she had pinned to her sweater sparkling under the dozens of Edison bulbs that were strung between the overhead beams.

“Okay…” Patrick said, a pit starting to form in his too-full stomach, despite not knowing why on earth she’d be coming by to tell _him_ that.

“Oh, did you not know? They’ve asked the wedding party to join them for the second half of the dance.”

She said it like it was nothing -- as if he’d simply be regurgitating some choreographed routine along with the other members of the wedding party -- but there was no such thing that Patrick was aware of, and an impromptu dance party was definitely _not_ Patrick’s forte.

 _I have legs like tree trunks_ , he’d once told David, and he hadn’t been kidding. Patrick had an athletic body, not a dancer’s body, and he’d never been graceful, unless you were talking about being able to slide effortlessly into home plate to score the game-winning run.

“Oooh, that sounds like so much fun!” David clapped his hands excitedly.

“We thought so,” Chris chimed in, clapping Patrick on the shoulder as he sidled up to the table.

“And you didn’t warn me about this… why exactly?”

“Because I knew you’d try to weasel out of it, just like you did those square dance lessons in gym class and slow songs at junior high dances.” Chris smirked as Patrick rolled his eyes. “So, c’mon… up and at ‘em.”

“Good luck, honey!” David smiled gleefully, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Break a leg!”

“I wish,” Patrick muttered as he reluctantly stood and followed Chris and Molly toward the dance floor.

As the best man, Patrick was paired with the maid of honor -- Beth’s sister Amanda, who was giggling and talking loudly, definitely a bit tipsy already. When the song started, Chris and Beth were by themselves on the dance floor, and watching them reminded Patrick yet again of his and David’s own wedding day. Even though they’d never anticipated their first dance as husbands taking place inside Cafe Tropical, it had felt a bit like a full-circle moment for Patrick, who still clearly remembered the moment when he’d made up his mind that he was going to propose to David, holding him close as they danced after his surprise birthday party. And now, he really wished he could dance with David instead, but Beth had paired everyone up and left no room for bargaining, no matter how pitiful of a look he tried to give her. _Those Brewer puppy-dog eyes don’t work on me_ , she’d said. _I’m immune._

Much too soon, the first couple of minutes of the song were over, and Patrick was being pulled onto the dance floor by Amanda, who almost immediately draped herself over him, resting her head on his chest in a position that he wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable sharing with his ‘sort-of’ sister-in-law. Patrick tried to push the discomfort aside and focus on not stepping on Amanda’s feet, which meant they ended up hardly moving at all as the song continued to play, and Patrick just tried to make it through what he anticipated should be two or three minutes of dancing, tops.

His prediction, however, had been wrong, and what must have been at _least_ five minutes later, Patrick found himself wondering how on earth Beth had managed to choose the longest song in the entire world for their first dance. _What even is this song?_ he thought to himself, the break in his concentration nearly causing him to step on Amanda’s toes. Not that she would have noticed, given that she was practically asleep on his chest by that point, just swaying to the music, and he desperately needed a way to pass the time, so he let his brain take off with him again. _Did they listen to the lyrics at all? This is so_ not _a love song. And what the fuck did they do to those poor violins? How many times does this chorus repeat?_

That was when he spied David out of the corner of his eye, standing by the cake table. On its own, that wasn’t surprising at all, especially not with the way he’d been raving about the cake, but the fact that he was standing in front of Mitzi, hand outstretched as if he’d just introduced himself, sent Patrick’s heart into his throat. David had no idea what he’d just opened himself up to, and there was no way in hell Patrick _wanted_ David to have to hear any of Mitzi’s uninformed vitriol without him there to at least run interference, but there was nothing he could do to get away -- not with the Maid of Honor practically hanging from his shoulders.

He tried to pay as much attention as possible to the task at hand, but that was difficult to do while simultaneously squinting to try to see what was happening at the cake table, where part of Mitzi’s face was obscured by a tall floral spray, making it impossible to evaluate her expression. The fact that she and David appeared to still be talking seemed like a good sign -- assuming they weren’t already involved in a heated debate about whether or not he and Patrick deserved to have rings on their fingers.

The various mismatched couples formed by the wedding party continued dancing around them, slowly pushing them around the dance floor as they tried to avoid being stepped on, and eventually Patrick ended up with a speaker blocking his entire view of the cake table, leaving him to say a silent prayer that whenever he managed to get away, he wouldn’t be walking straight into a disaster of epic proportions.

Finally -- after what felt like forever and must have been at least three songs instead of one -- Amanda’s girlfriend Jennie cut in, and Patrick could not have been happier to oblige. When he looked back toward the cake table, however, both David and Mitzi were gone. His eyes scanned the crowd, ultimately settling on David, who was sitting at a table, having cake and champagne with… Aunt Mitzi?

Patrick rubbed his eyes, figuring he must be hallucinating, but the vision of David’s perfectly styled black hair and his blissful ‘I’m-eating-something-delicious’ face remained, right next to Mitzi, who appeared to be enthralled in whatever David was saying.

Patrick approached the table as quickly as he could without being obvious, only catching the tail end of David’s story. “So, it might’ve looked like cake, but it definitely was _not_ cake,” David said pointedly, gesturing with his fork for emphasis. “And I will never make that mistake again.”

“What are you doing?” Patrick’s words came out much more forcefully than he intended, so he cleared his throat and started over. “I mean… what’s going on over here?”

“We’re just having some more of this delicious cake,” David said innocently, pausing to take a sip of his champagne and push away his empty dessert plate. “Why? Did you miss me already?”

Patrick was still struggling to wrap his brain around the scene in front of him and figure out how to respond when Mitzi’s voice joined the conversation. “David was just telling me about some of his international travels,” she said, her own tone just as casual as David’s. “Such a well-traveled young man you’ve married, Patrick.”

Patrick blinked again, wondering exactly what sort of magic David had worked on Mitzi and how on earth they’d gone from her looking down her nose at them in disgust to her giving them both what sounded suspiciously like a compliment. Before he had time to ask any more questions, though, David was getting up, his hand extended toward Mitzi one more time. It was all Patrick could do not to laugh as David’s face lit up with his brightest, most endearing smile -- the one he turned on when he really needed a vendor to agree to something that they didn’t particularly want to -- and shook her hand.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Mitzi,” David said, in his ultra-earnest, charm-the-pants-off-you voice.

Mitzi nodded and said, “Likewise. Congratulations on your wedding, Patrick.”

“Th-thank you,” Patrick sputtered, hoping his words hadn’t come out sounding too much like a question instead of a statement, as David took his hand and pulled him back out onto the dance floor. Patrick wanted to protest, but David pressed a finger to Patrick’s lips, then pointed toward the speaker, from which he could hear the first verse of “Brighter than Sunshine” already playing.

“Wait, did you know they were going to play this?”

“It pays to have hosted no less than several hundred house parties in one’s lifetime,” David said, as he wrapped his arms around Patrick’s shoulders, pulling him in close -- right into the place that had felt like home ever since that night at Cafe Tropical. “And I can be _very_ persuasive.”

“Oh, I know.” Patrick smiled and leaned in, letting David guide him across the dance floor.

As the chorus started, Patrick looked up at David, staring into the expressive dark brown eyes that he was one-hundred percent certain he would never get tired of seeing. “So, how did you do that?” he asked, still marveling at how David had somehow, inexplicably, managed to win over his great aunt -- the same woman who had studiously avoided them a mere twenty-four hours before.

“What?” David asked, the knowing smirk on his face belying his innocent tone. “Talk to the DJ?”

Patrick laughed and shook his head as he smiled up at David. “No. You know what.”

“Oh, that.” David paused and looked up at the ceiling briefly before lowering his gaze to meet Patrick’s once again. Amusement still danced in those beautiful eyes as his smirk grew. “Let’s just say I followed your advice and decided to just... be myself.”

“The irresistible David Rose…” Patrick let his voice trail off, leaning his head on David’s shoulder once again as David’s arms came around him more tightly. “Told you they’d all love you. And if they didn’t, well… that’s their loss.”

“Mmm… I guess we were both worried for nothing, then.”

“I guess we were.”

Patrick let out a contented sigh as he relaxed into his husband’s arms, unable to stop the smile that spread across his lips. As they moved together to the music, Patrick continued to marvel at his husband’s miraculous ability to charm anyone and everyone, and the fearless way in which he did it. He counted himself lucky to be able to share his life with David -- and even luckier to do it while completely surrounded by love. Not just in Schitt’s Creek, but here too. With _all_ of his family. 

_This is right where I’m meant to be_ , he thought, breathing in the unique combination of cologne and earthy skincare products that could only be labeled as David. The scent that always managed to calm his senses and make him feel at ease -- this time reminding him that no matter where he was or what was happening, as long as David was there, Patrick was home.


End file.
